* "Carmina Gadelica, Volume 1", by Alexander Carmicheal, [1900],
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p. 217
Duan An Domhnuich [79]
The Poem Of The Lord'S Day
This poem was obtained from Janet Currie, Staonabrig, South Uist, a descendant of the Mac Mhuirichs (corrupted into Currie) of Staoligearry, the famous poet-historians to the Clanranalds. She was a tall, strong, dark-haired, ruddy-complexioned woman, with a clear, sonorous voice. Her p. 217 language was remarkably fluent and copious, though many of her words and phrases, being obsolete, were unintelligible to the stranger. I took down versions of the poem from several other persons, but they are all more or less corrupt and obscure. Poems similar to this can be traced back to the eighth century.
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p. 217
Duan an Domhnuich, a Dhe ghil,
Firinn fo neart Chriosd a chomhnuidh.
Di-domhnuich rugadh Muire,
Mathair Chriosd an or-fhuilt bhuidhe,
Di-domhnuich rugadh Criosda
Mar onair dhaoine.
Di-domhnuich, an seachdamh latha,
Dh' orduich Dia gu fois a ghabhail,
Gu cumail na beath-maireannaich,
Gun feum a thoir a damh no duine,
No a creubh mar dheonaich Muire,
Gun sniamh snath sioda no strol,
Gun fuaigheal, gun ghreiseadh ni's mo,
Gun churachd, gun chliathadh, gun bhuain,
Gun iomaradh, gun iomairt, gun iasgaireachd,
Gun dol a mach dh' an t-sliabh sheilg,
Gun snaitheadh deilgne Di-domhnuich,
Gun chartadh taighe, gun bhualadh,
Gun atha, gun mhuileann Di-domhnuich.
Ge be chumadh an Domhnuch,
Bu chomhnard da-san 's bu bhuan,
Bho dhol fotha greine Di-Sathuirn
Gu eirigh greine Di-luain.
The poem of the Lord's Day, O bright God,
Truth under the strength of Christ always.
On the Lord's Day Mary was born,
Mother of Christ of golden yellow hair,
On the Lord's Day Christ was born
As an honour to men.
The Lord's Day, the seventh day,
God ordained to take rest,
To keep the life everlasting,
Without taking use of ox or man,
Or of creature as Mary desired,
Without spinning thread of silk or of satin,
Without sewing, without embroidery either,
Without sowing, without harrowing, without reaping,
Without rowing, without games, without fishing,
Without going out to the hunting hill,
Without trimming arrows on the Lord's Day,
Without cleaning byre, without threshing corn,
Without kiln, without mill on the Lord's Day.
Whosoever would keep the Lord's Day,
Even would it be to him and lasting,
From setting of sun on Saturday
Till rising of sun on Monday.
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Gheobhadh e feich ga chionn,
Toradh an deigh nan crann,
Iasg air abhuinn fior ghlan sala,
Sar iasg an ionnar gach abhuinn.
Uisg an Domhnuich blath mar mhil,
Ge be dh' oladh e mar dhibh
Gheobhadh e solas ga chion
Bho gach dolas a bhiodh na char.
Gul an Domhnuich gu ra-luath,
Bean ga dheanadh an an-uair;
Guileadh i gu moch Di-luain,
Ach na guileadh i uair 's an Domhnuch.
Fiodh an Domhnuich gu ra-luath,
Anns an linge mar is truagh,
Ge d' thuiteadh a cheann na ghual,
Bhiodh e gu Di-luain na chadal.
Mu thrath-nona Di-luain,
Eiridh am fiodh gu ra-luath,
'S air an dile mhor a muigh
Greas air sgeula mo chuimire.
Gun chnuasachd uan, meile, meinne no minsich
Nach buineadh dh' an Righ anns a bhlagh.
Is ann a nist bu choir a losgadh,
Gun eisdeachd ri gleadhraich nan gall,
No ri dall sgeileireachd choitchinn.
Gart a ghleidheadh air cnoc ard,
Leigh a thoir gu galar garga,
Bo chur gu tarbh treun na tana,
Falbh le beothach gu cuthaidh,
He would obtain recompense therefrom,
Produce after the ploughs,
Fish on the pure salt-water stream,
Fish excelling in every river confluence.
The water of the Lord's Day mild as honey,
Whoso would partake of it as drink
Would obtain health in consequence
From every disease afflicting him.
The weeping of the Lord's Day is out of place,
A woman doing it is untimely;
Let her weep betimes on Monday,
But not weep once on the Lord's Day.
The wood of the Lord's Day is too soon.
In the pool it is pitiful,
Though its head should fall in char,
It would till Monday be dormant.
About noon on the Monday,
The wood will arise very quickly,
And by the great flood without
Hasten the story of my trouble.
Without any searching for lamb, sheep, kid or goat